


Figurehead

by ZombyEmblem



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Persona 4, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - DanRona 4, Angst, Crossover, Existential Crises, F/M, Fluff, Super Dangan Ronpa 2 Spoilers, swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3827233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombyEmblem/pseuds/ZombyEmblem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>==REPOSTED FOLLOWING ebooks-tree SCARE==</p><p>Making eye contact with yourself is weird. The fact that Gundam is doing so in a strange, unfamiliar room with a version of him that has yellow eyes is probably something he should look into. Well, he is looking into it, since he's making eye contact, but– you know.</p><p>(Day 3 of SHSL Rarepair Week! Prompt: The Tower Arcana.)<br/>(The Tower symbolizes the collapse of grand plans, being humbled, the disruption of routine, and sudden insight into the truth.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Figurehead

It was a strange, artificial, and unfamiliar ceiling. He noticed that first. What he noticed second was that it was dark, as the ceiling lights were off, yet he could see perfectly well. Third, he noticed that he was on the ground and was entirely vulnerable.

Gundam Tanaka launched himself from prone to standing in record time. He whispered a quick incantation to scan the room for sources of light or recognizable landmarks, but found nothing. The breeder’s magic was unparalleled in its potency and usefulness; even though his classmates acted as if completely devoid of arcane powers, he suspected it was because they were ashamed of their inferiority. As such, he was careful not to use it too often around them—proud as he may be, lording his achievements over them was unnecessarily juvenile, and it accomplished nothing.

Once he had the earth beneath his feet again, Gundam surveyed the contents of his new environment. It appeared to be a large playroom, decorated specifically to imitate some sort of medieval keep. (A paltry impersonation, he noted with distaste.) Perhaps this was the main room of a nursery or daycare, explaining the size. The walls were decorated in a tacky gray brick pattern, each brick a uniform size and solid color, with only a thick line of white to denote the bondings. Periodically, the walls were adorned with towers, but all of them appeared to be watchtowers—a distinctly pointless construction choice when there were other kinds of towers one could have a use for. Even more than that, they were staffed with… Lions? Zebras?! Lions didn’t belong on towers! Who put them there? What were they supposed to do that far from their enemies? Why were there native African animals in an obviously European castle?! They weren’t even truly lions, mere cartoonish mockeries of the fiercest beasts in the animal kingdom! Who designed this room?!

**“FUAHAHAHAHAHA!”**

Skin prickling, Gundam whipped around in an about-face. That cackle was the sound of a true warrior, one with ancient power and a personality to match. A wicked adversary—at last, an opponent worthy of his own time. The voice coughed suddenly as he was nearly turned around, and he moved to respond—

But didn’t.

Not a syllable escaped his lips.

He was staring directly at himself.

The specter of his body was identical to his own, save for the eyes. Aside from the irises, dyed a solid black, every part of its eyes was a bright and grating yellow. They were cruel eyes, yet the face they adorned was devoid of urgency. In fact, as it struggled to regain breath after its bout with vocal failure, it appeared almost comical. Then it resumed breathing regularly.

“Wewcome to my dungeon of despaiw, infidew!” the phantom menace cried, lisping heavily. It failed to put its full vocal range to use, and as a result, it was almost kind of a high-pitched voice. To Gundam, however, it was grotesquely clear that the voice was his own. He hadn’t found the fortitude to speak, yet the sound of his own thoughts was emanating from the figure before him. “You’ve fawwen into my twap!”

The seeds of rage sprouted loudly in Gundam’s voice. “What devilry is this? What macabre shapeshifter has been so treacherous as to assume my own form?” He was seething now, fighting back his own powers of flame and prominence from erupting, if only for the sake of finding answers. “You… speak now and reveal your true form, and I may yet spare your destruction!”

The specter giggled childishly. “Shapeshiftew? Dat’s not it at awl! Don’t you see? I’m…” It paused and sucked in a deep gulp of air. “Gundam Tanaka, the Ascendant Wulew of Ice!”

Boiling aggression cooled to bitter amusement. “Heheh… Don’t mock me, weakling. A mimic abducting its victims I have heard of, but never have I heard of one so foolish as to steal away a man it cannot identify. For you see,” Gundam cried, dramatically swinging his right arm out to the side, parallel to the ground, “ _I_ am Gundam Tanaka!”

While the gesture was executed rather well, it did not have the intended effect. The specter puffed out its cheeks and pouted (not unlike someone else he knew, Gundam noted offhand). “Dat’s de _point_!” it screamed, livid at this questioning. “De point hewe is dat I’m you! I’m _you_!!”

Gundam’s mind was whirling now, a jumble of incantations. Spells collided and careened into each other in his head, occasionally splitting and recombining like wayward bits of DNA into new chants (which were most likely functionless). The breeder pulled up his muffler to his nose and averted his gaze, piecing together the logic of the situation as best he could. Nothing fit. Some kind of mist clouded his thoughts.

Concentrating was made near impossible by the mirage’s caterwauling. “I _said_ , ‘I’m _you_ ’!” Both of its arms swung down to its sides, fueled by aimless rage. “Awe you _wistening_?!”

“Quiet yourself!” Gundam snapped, unable to take the noise. “I have heard your babbling, but none of it follows any reasoning. Cease this nonsense and explain your true being. You are clearly unlike me.”

Like a switch had been thrown, his doppelganger was calm. There was no transition from anger to tears; the second step was replaced with only an eerie grin. “Unwike you?”

“Obviously. Your demeanor is completely contrary to mine.”

“Weawly?” it began, darker and more confident now, “Is dat what you fink? You weawly don’t know?”

A sharp spool of flame embedded itself in Gundam’s chest. Suddenly his breath was on fire, his heart speeding past a healthy rate and bleeding into itself, seemingly faster than could be measured. “You… What do you…”

“I’m just wike you, you dumb-butt! I’m a powewfuw demon fwom Heww!” Arms went to pants pockets, pulling out four stuffed hamsters on plastic keychains. “My animaw companions do my bidding, suppowting me as I suppowt dem! I need no awwies owr comwades when I have dem! I need no human fwiends except as wooshippews!” Voice rose in strength. “And I have powewfuw magics! Powewfuwer than youwrs! I can contwowl de awcane fowces of natuwe!”

Flame dissipates. Yelling, “You… think you… are powerful? My magic—”

“Magic?” Mouth twists to ugly sneer. “Why do you fink you’we hewe?”

There is still burning. “What…?”

Arms raise out to sides, perfectly straight, palms open.

“Dis is de TV Wowld! Dis is my home! You woke up hewe, which means someone knocked you out! Dey put you in hewe!”

Fire increases.

“Whewe was youw magic den? Why didn’t it hewp you? Because you’we stiww a chiwd, pwaying pwetend? Acting wike you know evewyfing?”

An inferno now. Impossible to restrain, endure, survive. Curls of heat infect everything. Yells all he can think. Incoherent, but one thing escapes. The wrong thing.

Gundam cries, _screams_ like it’ll overtake the _burning_ of his throat and lungs, _wails_ as if the _air itself_ is an extension of his feelings, _keens_ in desperate self-preservation against something that’s invisible _because it’s too close to find_ ,

**“YOU’RE NOT ME!”**

It was cold.

The fire didn’t disappear or vanish.

It burned still. But the room turned to ice.

The specter halted at once. Smug, upturned corners of its mouth dropped like stones and its mouth hung open. _Finally, an arrow strikes true, for the mirage appears to be hurt._ It curled away, whimpering, but then morphing, its teeth reuniting and appearing more as the ghost’s lips parted further and further and further.

“You’we not me? You’re not me? _You’re_ not _me_?!” This mimic’s voice had changed just as dramatically as its face. The lisp was gone, replaced with a wavering, ready-to-crack whine at its core, fraying the pitch at every syllable. Not a trace of fear or sadness remained on the face of the specter; now its form was unnaturally twisted into a demonic rendering of blind fury. A scream rang out and bombarded the entire room, blasting the senses beyond comprehension. Gundam rammed his eyes shut, waiting for the end. The end of his life, or this nightmare, or whatever transition was occurring before him.

And at last, the volume was below his pain threshold. He opened his eyes, blinking to part the mist.

And what he found was surely a nightmare.

_“I am a Shadow… the true self…”_

Wrapped in a murky blue mist, an enormous teddy bear had taken the place of the specter. It seemed as if it were styled to resemble its previous form—the fur was black, it had a gray button for one eye and a red button for the other (although the red one was loose and dangled on its thread), and there was a gray stain in the shape of a lightning bolt over one eye. Its ears were ripped off, and its teeth appeared sharp, like actual blades.

_“I don’t need anyone’s help! I’ll win their respect on my own! Then they’ll be forced to love me!”_

There was a jeweled crown, but it was strangely oversized—too big to rest on the bear’s head, it somehow balanced on the fuzzy shoulders of its wearer. On the side, however, it appeared almost as if it had hinges—and it did. In reality, the crown itself was a decorated bear trap, yawning open in a hideous invitation. The metalwork continued into the bear’s… well, the spot between the head and torso where the neck would be, but teddy bears don’t have those. The mechanism was built into the body of the bear itself—which explained the presence of the plate, the trap’s sensor and trigger, atop the head of the beast. Due to the diameter of the trap, if it were to shut, it would barely even graze the top of the bear’s head—a heartless clamp that could sever the life thread of any unsuspecting prey. Death would be guaranteed. Tied around the monster’s neck like a cape was the tattered blanket of a child. Each of the bear’s forepaws held a gigantic, flat-edged sword like the foam ones sold at toy stores—dull, certainly, but heavy and large enough to crush.

_“My animal friends will help. They’ll keep any humans far away from me! I only need them!”_

On cue, four round, balloon-like hamsters bounced over toward the menace, taking places at its side. They were tall enough to reach just above the bottom of the bear's torso when on the ground, and the impact of each jump sent a gentle rumble through the floor. The plastered smiles of the animals refused to change, slapped on like drawings in marker.

_“And that means I don’t need you! It’s time for me to evolve, and you’re falling behind!”_

Suddenly, the hamsters took one great leap in unison and slammed back to the earth, rippling the safe ground with an awful tremor. Gundam was forced to realize how weak he felt as the shock dropped him straight to one knee. His limbs were useless, shivering and liable to fall apart any moment. The Shadow took a step closer to him and raised its right arm, hoisting the sword above its ravaged head.

_“And you know what happens to animals in the wild who can’t keep up!!”_

Dark power of some kind surged within Gundam’s legs, and in just a fraction of a moment he managed to shove out his feet and push himself over to his right—the monster’s left. The sword fell where he had lain and brought cataclysm to the speck of floor that he had only just vacated by an insignificantly small margin, but the attack created a shockwave that launched the breeder across the room, slamming him against a wall. Something felt broken, although it was hard to tell, as Gundam’s senses were beginning to fade.

The Shadow, it called itself. It was saying something, and the jeering tone of a stuck-up fencing champion was hard to mistake, but whole room was swimming now. The castle walls and watchtowers dripped into goo, impossible to articulate or observe as the syrupy world swished around like batter in a mixing bowl. A few unrelated noises registered in Gundam’s brain as what had to be a sword rose yet again, but nothing was clear anymore. Everything was melting, and the sounds, unusually sharp as they were, couldn’t fight the current.

The sword fell.

One final item entered Gundam’s consciousness just as he lost it. But the syllables were clear.

_“TETRAKARN!”_

* * *

 

No shockwave struck the floor of the room as the fake blade descended. It never even found the floor. Just near the end of its downward arc, it met a shining orb that emitted a whizzing noise, spinning violently and jostling the sword. Sparks and flakes of light sprayed off the orb as it ground against the undesired weight of the weapon it was fighting. There was no hint of give or weakness in the circular form, though—it moved with cold, knowing ease. This lasted seconds with no progress, but then, in a moment, the blade was nicked at an unlucky angle and careened backwards into the Shadow’s fluffy torso, delivering a tough blow that propelled the monster halfway across the room. Skidding to a halt, the beast roared in opprobrium.

Satisfied, the glowing ball dissipated to reveal Peko Pekoyama drawing her blade, standing in front of the unconscious body of her acquaintance and facing his assailant. Behind her, a small humanoid form floated in the air. A featureless bronze helmet covered the head of this spirit, and the rest of its body appeared to drown in a flowing red kimono decorated with spring flowers and marble columns. The ends of the garment still smoldered gently with the remnants of some forgotten flame. Cradled in the arms of the childlike body were an ornate katana and an ancient rifle-like weapon called a harquebus. As Peko stepped forward, the young spirit faded out of vision.

Having broken only a moment, the screech emanating from the Shadow resumed. “No! No no no no _no no no_!! You can’t be here! Go away!” Soft little feet stamped the ground in a tragically cute tantrum. “Stop interfering, you useless human!”

Peko noted with subdued amusement that as far as insults went, that one backfired a bit. “I’m here as a warrior,” she called, “not as a helper.” Cold as the steel of her blade, she locked eyes with the Shadow, as much as one could with one of its eyes swinging at the corner of its mouth. “I intend to depose you.”

A growl answered her—then a cackle. “Well, well! You think you’re better than me? I’ll defeat you! In the name of all the legions of Hell, I accept your challenge!” And once again, a toy word rose in the air.

Peko took off, feet blurring just a puff above the ground in a controlled but powerful dash. She hoped to charge the monster directly, but the intervention of a hamster forced her to divert her course to the left—where she collided with and bounced off of another of the rotund rodents. It took only a glance to recognize that the hamsters were boxing her in, preventing escape from the free-falling weight of the enemy’s weapon. Death was unavoidable—for an untrained fighter.

With the precision of an empty, mechanical mind, Peko sheathed her weapon, planted in on the floor, took the end of the sash tied to the case in hand, hopped onto the end of the hilt, and launched herself into the air, taking her sword with her. The weapon sailed along behind her as she made an arc over the head of the hamster on her left, comfortably evading the Shadow’s sword. As she fell, she drew the blade and made a shining vertical slash through the hamster. It bounced away pathetically before disappearing into a gritty purple haze, making the sound of sand hitting a paper wall.

If Peko had taken a moment to catch her breath and survey that achievement, she would’ve been caught by the dark sigil materializing underneath her perfect three-point landing. Her instincts were too well-honed, however, and she sprang quickly away from the shining black image before it suddenly closed up. Dark magic. It was an element only capable of producing instant-kill attacks, and while they were inconsistent and unreliable, it was safer to avoid them entirely. She turned her gaze upwards towards her foe, noting its stomps as a sign of agitation—and by extension, carelessness.

Another hamster careened towards her at the bleating of the Shadow. Peko dug into the depths of her soul, and a shining blue Tarot card materialized before her. Immediately she shattered the card with a flip of her blade.

“Mori Ranmaru!”

The childlike spirit summoned earlier shimmered into existence amid a cloud of glowing cerulean and brandished the katana it could barely even hold. With a flowing swing, it repelled the hamster with a Cleave, perfectly nailing the plastic-skinned creature and sending it skidding away into the same purple vapor. She didn’t even feel fatigued as the attack siphoned off a bit of her energy to feed itself.

If before the Shadow was angry, now it was enraged. An earsplitting clamor ruptured the room, threatening to tear the entire world from its hinges. A less resilient person may have been severely disoriented, but Peko managed to shake the white noise out of her head in a few seconds. With its removal, she discovered the Shadow had decided to throw strategy to the wind, thrashing angrily. Both of the remaining hamsters charged her position as the bear itself wound up for a horizontal slice.

But its limbs were too short, weren’t they? For a horizontal slice to work, it would have to bend down a bit to reach her on the floor, and since its legs were so stubby and jointless, it’d be lunging forward and bending at the waist.

Which would… put the bear trap practically within reach.

It’s worth noting that most people need a second or two to weigh the risks and benefits of a plan before trying to execute it. Peko Pekoyama skipped that step. She may have done so because she was aware of how quickly she needed to react to the incoming attacks, or because she was hell-bent on defeating this Shadow and willing to risk it, or maybe because she just didn’t care too much about getting hurt. Whatever the cause, she pulled off a tidy gambit.

Unflinching, the swordfighter launched herself onto one of the hamsters and used it as a springboard to launch herself into the air. The bear’s sword swept at nothing but air and its own two lackeys, which made the same grainy noise as before.

This was not the plan. Well, it was _part of_ the plan, but it was only the first step. The easy one.

With her momentum, Peko had charted an uninterrupted course to the top of the bear’s head—the location of the bear trap’s pan, which would trigger the mechanism and set the jaws of the trap clamping shut. What a ridiculous death _that_ would be, going from smooth tricks and dodges straight to hopping into the Reaper’s lap.

Peko did not do ridiculous. She was aiming for the Reaper’s lap because she knew just how to deliver a swift strike to the groin (figuratively speaking).

Of course, since the surface of the bear’s head was nearly vertical now, staying aboard long enough to execute her plan would require a little tinkering. The Tarot card materialized again as Peko traveled towards the metal platform, and she slashed it apart while unsheathing her sword, crying out “Tetrakarn!”

Three pivotal things happened at that moment. One, Peko jammed both feet down onto the plate of the trap, setting it off. Two, she embedded she sword into the soft fabric of the Shadow’s head next to the plate, down to the pommel, and gripped it for dear life. Three, the paneled sphere of light from before was summoned yet again.

The jaws of the trap snapped shut, eager for blood. When they met the light, the impact was intense enough that the teeth of the trap made visible dents in the sphere, newly-pressed spikes that didn’t poke in far enough to kill her like in some cheap horror flick but were still worrying. Slowing down, the orb ground violently and noisily. For a heart-stopping instant, it was uncertain whether it’d hold, storms of light and hot glass firing through the room as particles were lost from the shield in a display of what could only be called fireworks.

In a second or so, the orb suddenly rebuffed the jaws of the bear trap, snapping to its original shape. Tetrakarn was a skill that reflected physical impacts by definition (and necessitated quite a bit of spiritual power, which didn’t trouble Peko since she had little other use for that), meaning all of the force and pressure in the vicegrip of the metal snare was reversed—sent in the exact opposite direction. The two curves of metal shot open, snapped past their joints on the sides, and pinned the Shadow’s arms (forcing the giant foam swords out of its grip) and legs together as the blunt ends of the mandibles met just below the bear’s waist. Struggling and howling in pain, the Shadow crashed to the floor, face-down.

Peko removed her blade from the now-undefended pate of the monster. She allowed herself a smirk (the same expression that usually scared people away); the enemy was down.

And what else follows a downed enemy but an All-Out Attack?

The swordfighter rushed straight to the Shadow and began a flurry of strikes wherever they would land, blurring from sheer speed. A cartoonish dust cloud accumulated around the Shadow as Peko wailed away on the monster without restraint. It was only five seconds, but after only that long, the assault was intense enough that Peko was flung back out of her own rush as the dust cloud turned to a mushroom cloud.

She so loved getting to do All-Out Attacks. They made no sense, but the catharsis was great.

However, the Shadow wasn’t necessarily finished. It couldn’t get up, but it was still wriggling and making a noise between wrathful bellowing and petulant wailing. One more thing, then. Once again, Peko attacked the Tarot card, summoning Mori Ranmaru to materialize above her. She readied her blade, and…

“Kill Rush.”

Peko and Mori Ranmaru moved in unison and slashed in unison. One, two, three.

And with a cry to the wind, the Shadow fell apart.

* * *

 

It was a strange, artificial, and unfamiliar ceiling. He noticed that fir—waaaaaiiiit a second.

Gundam Tanaka moved to sit up, and while he was disappointed that his bout with unconsciousness didn’t actually make him well-rested, it was better to be weak from fatigue than from pain. He didn’t hurt so badly, although he had the impression that it should be worse. A hand appeared just in front of his face. “Here.”

Blinking did not clear up his vision, which was soupier than his mother’s attempts at making pudding. “My… my skin… the poison…”

The voice reverberated back at him when he couldn’t finish. “I’ve been infected with the venom of monsters here before, Tanaka. Whatever toxins you secrete, I can endure them.”

Slowly and hesitantly, Gundam took the hand offered and struggled to stand up, muttering “But what if I were akin to such monsters? From a foreign perspective, aren’t all of us monsters in some way?” (Delirium, of course, but to him, it was both extremely insightful and highly relevant.)

His guide—the sword-wielding girl, it seemed—walked backwards as she coaxed him forward by his left hand (which still clutched the one she offered to him), occasionally touching his right upper arm to steady him. “You’re not completely wrong,” she remarked.

What was that glowing blue mess over—Gundam recognized the Shadow, now having reverted back to his likeness. He sobered at once. Instinctively he moved to make a grand gesture, but his energy reserves were empty, and his right arm dropped limply back to his side. “That… that mimic, it took my form and—”

“Stop,” came the hard-edged voice of Peko Pekoyama, cutting neatly through Gundam’s thought. “If you keep referring to it that way, it’ll rematerialize and attack us again. Don’t be a fool.”

The pure absurdity of a doppelganger being able to do all this struck Gundam right then, and he peered around his surroundings dizzily. “… Steely one. What… what happened here?”

Pekoyama spoke without turning her head. “Someone, likely the serial killer who emerged recently, attacked you and threw you into this place. This area… this world is malleable, and it’s receptive to your subconscious. So the appearance of the area is based on your mind. And that,” she jabbed as she nodded down at the Shadow, “is an amalgam of monsters that based its demeanor and manifested body on your subconscious.”

“But… its words… those treacherous lies—”

“There were no lies, Tanaka. They can’t lie about the very basis of their existence. It’s at their core.” Pekoyama turned to face him now. “And before we can leave here, you need to recognize that and make amends with it.”

The breeder spluttered in disbelief, offended at the mere notion. “I don’t know what it told you,” Pekoyama added, “but the other ones were always correct.”

A stray throb in the front of Gundam’s head convinced him to let “the other ones” slide. With effort, he shuffled towards the Shadow and took a knee in front of it. The specter looked up at him, sniffling quietly. Gundam turned to send one more beleaguered look in Pekoyama’s direction, at which she raised one eyebrow, as if to urge him on.

Oh, shameful day. Gundam gazed back at his double, forcing himself to make eye contact. “Perhaps… perhaps I have been too distant.” He shifted his muffler uncomfortably. “The danger of normalcy… inferiority, even—” spitting the words, he shook his head. “I have been eager to establish dominance over others. And this has pushed them away.”

The Shadow gazed back, silent. Its tears had dried up by this point. Its expression was one of absolute trust.

“And while I know that despite what you say, my magic is supreme above—” (he didn’t even need to look back to know that Pekoyama was glaring at him, for he felt a harsh chill up his spine)—“… it’s childish to overstate my powers simply for appearances.”

Gundam’s throat itched. The burning sensation from before had returned, but it was subdued now. He shook his head to settle his thoughts.

“Perhaps I don’t even need to make such boasts to garner respect. It’s not impossible to have both animal comrades and human friends, is it? Do you simply… treat them the same? I… don’t know how it works.” He admitted this more as a question, hoping rather pointlessly that the Shadow might know, or that Pekoyama would interject again. Neither of those things happened, but the Shadow smiled at him. A real, genuine smile. “But, in any event, regardless of what happens now… now I can see that we are one and the same.” A faceless voice echoed in his mind:

_The strength of heart required to face oneself has been made manifest…_

Then the blue glow returned, enveloping the Shadow before fading into a soft field of light. A portion of the blue energy floated upward and spread out once again to reveal a new form floating high in the air.

It was a masculine body, muscular and regally adorned with golden bracelets and necklaces. It wore a black-furred bearskin like a cloak, with the bear’s head acting as a hood. Due to the hood covering the face, only the mouth and chin of the figure were exposed, with skin a powdery, almost crystalline white, decorated in purple images and tattoos. The horns of a ram extended from the bearskin’s ears. The figure was clothed in some kind of stone armor shaped like pieces of a building, faded brown and covered in a red mosslike texture, ornate but out of place. They gave the impression that the figure itself was more a temple than a person, a proud monument before a simple being. All too soon, before Gundam could finish studying the figure, it vanished, melting into the tinted cloud of ocean blue that it had appeared in. With the sound of glass snapping, a Tarot card floated down upon Gundam’s head and was absorbed into his body, bathing him in a faded baby-blue aura. The voice returned:

_Gundam has faced his other self…_

_He has obtained the façade used to overcome life’s hardships, the Persona Minos!_

Gundam felt the life return to his limbs, and he breathed out heartily as he rose to his feet. When he turned back to face Pekoyama, she was smiling—almost warmly, if that adjective could ever apply to someone like her. He smirked and let out the self-assured chuckle he had performed so many times before. “Do you bite your thumb at me, steely one?”

Pekoyama’s face immediately cleared itself of emotion. “What?”

“Perhaps the nature of my plight struck you as a source of mirth. Is that why you loosed your sinister grin at me? In mockery?”

“N-no, that’s not— I didn’t mean—” Pekoyama stuttered without a particular aim, eventually averting her eyes and fiddling with one of her braids. A light pink shaded her cheeks as she assured him in a quiet voice, “It was nothing. Forget about it.”

An awkward silence likely would have followed if the two hadn’t been interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Someone or something jostled the door leading into the room. Gundam kicked out a leg to stride dramatically toward the door and instead stumbled, now pondering exactly how much energy was returned to him when he gained his Persona, while Pekoyama drew her sword once again and stepped in front of him.

Nothing happened for a few seconds.

Then there was a loud _slam_. Hoisting a monkey wrench over his head, Kazuichi Souda kicked open the door before immediately doubling over and clutching at his foot in pain. “ _Fuck!_ ”

* * *

 

Two days later, on Thursday, they met on the walk to school.

In the slightly filtered quiet of the rain, Peko was slowly observing how strange it felt to carry an umbrella for only herself when she noticed the animal breeder trudging slowly along a short distance ahead. He was draping his muffler over his head in a futile attempt at keeping dry, but his hair already seemed to be sagging from the weight of the moisture. He slouched over in a show of defiance to the rain that had ruined his morning. Peko quickened her pace until she had caught up with him. “Good morning.”

Tanaka glanced down at her with possibly the sulkiest face he’d ever used. “Feh. Greetings to you as well, steely one, although I would refrain from calling this morning ‘good’ if I were in your position. This accursed weather is hardly a worthy fit for my return to power.”

It was Tanaka’s first day back at school since they rescued him from the TV World. Previously, the students who were rescued took at least a week off from school to recuperate from the strain, but Tanaka had only needed a day. He really had displayed remarkable resilience this whole time. It made sense that his Arcana was Strength, which indicated stability and emotional fortitude.

“Perhaps the rain is atmospheric, and it’s setting a dark tone for your reappearance.”

Tanaka scoffed, reviving his smirk of confidence. “The Ascendant Ruler of Ice needs no cheap weather effects to set his tone.” He chuckled, and inhaled loudly in preparation for another thought, but it never came. Instead, his gaze veered left, and he focused his scrutiny on the plants growing on the side of the road, away from his classmate. The summer flowers were beginning to form a nice chorus of brilliant shades and smells, a refreshing welcome wagon that didn’t understand why all the humans were so bothered by the downpour.

Peko drifted just a touch closer to share her umbrella with him. “Yes?”

Momentarily surprised by the gesture, Tanaka hummed for a second before finding his verbal footing. “In truth… I fear that I will experience difficulty in connecting with the other students. That is… what it spoke of on Tuesday.” He shook his head slowly. “Legendary as I may be, I cannot convey my feelings with much clarity.”

Peko glanced around in search of ideas and, struck with inspiration, beamed back at her classmate, an uncharacteristically silly expression. “Ah—did you bring your hamsters with you? People might want to—”

“Four Dark Gods of Destruction!” Tanaka barked, insistent on having the proper title used for his companions. “And… no, it’s too wet today. I could not guarantee that I could transport them to the school building without endangering them.”

“Oh.” The swordfighter dropped her gaze in disappointment. Thwarted again. The fluffies would eternally evade her grasp.

Tanaka searched the inside of the umbrella’s canvas like his thoughts were organized there. “Perhaps it is for the best. Considering the actions and strategies employed by the Shadow, I now recognize that I have relied on their strength too heavily. If its battle plan was as you described, its attacks were too unwieldy to strike true without their assistance. It would behoove me to practice combat in their absence.”

“Mm.”

A few minutes passed in peaceful silence. He didn’t seem uncomfortable with this, and truth be told, she herself was buzzing with content. As the school gates came into view, Peko cleared her throat. “If you have trouble adjusting to things…” She bit her lip just for a moment. “I could accompany you through the day.”

Tanaka didn’t turn to look at her, but he smirked down at the asphalt. “You would offer your soul in servitude so willingly?”

“In all fairness,” she continued, ignoring that remark, “I’m on my own today, too, and I might need some help. So this partnership would benefit us both.” The drops of precipitation on her glasses were drying up awfully fast, it felt like. Were they? It felt like it. Was it that hot today?

Tanaka’s head jerked upward. “Come to think of it, are you not usually beholden to the obscene one? What fate has befallen him today?”

Peko thought back to the conversation she’d had with the Young Master less than an hour earlier.

* * *

 

_“Peko. Go the fuck to school.”_

_“I see no reason. You’re too sick to attend classes, and someone has to watch over you while you recover.”_

_“I can handle my own damn self!” the gangster coughed, betraying his words. “Look, my sister’s gonna be home anyway. I’ll just make her get me shit.”_

_“Does she ever do what you ask of her, Young Master?”_

_He reached up and rubbed his eyes in frustration. It was strange seeing the esteemed Super High School Level Yakuza bedridden like this, and she never got used to it. Another heavy sigh sounded from him._

_“Young Master, is something—”_

_“I left my fuckin’ hat at school, and someone’s gotta pick it up!” It was a frustrated and embarrassed outburst, and before any proper reply could catch it, Kuzuryuu nabbed a pillow and kneaded it like he was trying to strangle someone. “And I mean, come on, someone’s gotta write down the lectures for me. I’m not falling behind those dumbasses in our class.” He looked over at his guard, who was silent and contemplative. “What? What’s wrong?”_

_Peko cleared her throat. “So you want me to go to class by myself.”_

_Kuzuryuu rolled his head back and groaned at the ceiling. “I’m not a seeing-eye dog, Peko. You don’t need me around to handle school for just one day!” Peko opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. “What, do I gotta kidnap someone to get you to make your own choices?”_

_Well, come to think of it, no, that would mean he’d probably hold them at the Kuzuryuu residence. So if she planned to either free the hostage or help guard them, she’d go home instead of visiting the school building. But that clearly wasn’t the point of the remark._

_Kuzuryuu knew all about the rescue expedition that pulled Gundam Tanaka out of the TV World. He was the first to learn of it, in fact. They’d been monitoring the guy for nearly a week after his appearance on the Midnight Channel, but aside from ratcheting up the breeder’s paranoia, they accomplished little. When Kuzuryuu woke up the afternoon of that Tuesday—he went home sick in the middle of the day and was not happy— he found only a note on his nightstand explaining that Tanaka was missing and Peko had gone to get him. He had to call the other two—Souda and Hinata were the only others who had Personas so far—and warn them that Pekoyama was, as he put it, “jumpin’ into the fuckin’ tiger pit”._

_Of course, they had to figure out a way to leave school early for that. Peko herself had absconded mid-day as well, having ascertained Tanaka’s status earlier on than the others. Somehow she’d been left behind at school without her Young Master when he was sent home, and in hindsight, he wasn’t surprised to learn she’d just bolted instead of sticking through the whole day. If she hadn’t, though, they’d have another victim on their hands, and one less ally._

_“Alright, look,” he resumed after receiving no reply, “just go. One day, get my stuff for me. You’ll be fine.”_

_“As you wish, Young Master.”_

_“Yeah, yeah. And quit with the ‘Young Master’ cra—” Kuzuryuu was interrupted by a vicious coughing fit that refused to subside, but it looked like the conversation was just about done. Peko left to get her books._

* * *

 

“He’s away on business,” Peko replied, not making eye contact.

She heard the standard chuckle at her side. “Well, in that case, I suppose he cannot begrudge me for enlisting the help of his retainer for a day.”

Peko allowed herself a smile. “I suppose he can’t.”

As they crossed through the school gates, they realized the rain had stopped.

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to all my homies on the crack blog who are so eager for Pekaka. The Pekaka Orb shall rise over Weyard again. God bless America, this ship is beautiful.
> 
> If anyone was wondering, Pekoyama is the Hermit Arcana, Souda is the Magician, Kuzuryuu is the Wheel of Fortune, and Hinata is the Fool, of course.


End file.
